


Clasp

by sessile



Series: Rope [2]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Angst, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rope Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:47:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26367418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sessile/pseuds/sessile
Summary: Another go at it.
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Series: Rope [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1916128
Comments: 13
Kudos: 42





	Clasp

  
There’s nothing in the house that can support even the half of Armie’s suspended weight they’re looking for, so they have to come up with something. 

Armie is literally only doing this because Tim promised him he could suck Tim’s cock. He has no fucking idea why Tim wants to go with this elaborate set-up this time. 

“I wanna take pictures,” Tim finally answers when pressed. 

“Tim, _no_ —”

Tim jiggles in front of him a camera that must’ve come from 2004. 

“Where in the hell—”

“It’s my old camera. Birthday present from grandma on my twelfth.”

“She gave you a used camera on your birthday?”

“Don’t fucking make fun of my grandma,” Tim shoots back, grinning. “It works, and I can upload it to a super secret folder on my computer.”

“... and?”

Tim gives him a look like he’s a dumbass. “To jerk off to later, the fuck do you think?”

Armie sighs and smiles a little, despite himself. It’s a nice image, Tim pulling on his cock to pictures of him; he _is_ vain enough to appreciate that. “Dude, just—just be fucking careful. There’s nothing about me that says I can pull off being seen trussed up like a pig by people.”

“Psh. There’s a whole contingent of people who want to see exactly that.”

“ _Tim_.”

“ _Jesus_ , Armie, who do you think—” Tim stops short; the look on his face is probably more serious than he was thinking. Tim gives him a genuine placating look. “I’ll be careful. Scout’s honor.” Tim actually does the fucking hand gesture and Armie has to laugh.

“I still don’t know how we’re going to do this.”

-

Tim, for the love of Christ, actually fucking finds some load-bearing eye bolts they can screw into the ceiling. 

“Are you _kidding_ me? How the fuck are you going to explain some random hardware in the—”

“We don’t have to leave them there—”

“So now I have holes in the ceiling—”

“For fuck’s sake, Armie, hang a fucking plant from there for all I care—where’s your goddamn ladder?”

“Who’s paying for all this anyway?”

“... _Are you fucking serious?_ ”

-

Tim manages to get the bolt installed and secured, despite them bickering the entire time because neither of them knows how to shut the fuck up. 

-

“You need me to show you the knot again?”

“No, I want to see if I got it.” 

Armie’s brow knits a bit at that but he lets Tim be. He’s got a hunting knife he can leave out in case. 

Once he starts stripping off his clothes, Tim stops him, though: “Leave your pants on.” When Armie gives him a questioning look: “Just to be safe.” Armie can’t say he’s not a little relieved. 

Tim gets everything set up, threads the rope through the eye of the bolt, and all that’s left is to get Armie secured. 

Armie looks over not a little warily at the whole thing and asks, “So now what?”

“Get on your knees.”

Armie stiffens a little at that and glances over at Tim, who’s gone deadly serious in an instant save for the tiniest smile on his face. Armie’s awe of him is twofold: one, his ability to slip into another state that fully and that fast; and two, that’s the state where he chose to land. Armie feels his heart quicken a pace. 

Armie takes a breath and gauges where he should kneel (and like that isn’t already starting to fuck with his head), and slips down to his knees. He looks up at Tim, whose expression is almost unreadable, except for that maddening little smile. He wants to grab onto Tim’s legs, pull him to him, pull him _down_ , and make love to him the rest of the evening, but, well—

“Give me your hands.”

Armie swallows and presents him both his hands, locked together at the wrists. Tim slips the knot over them both, gets it tight, and walks off to where they’re going to anchor the rope, on his heaviest dresser. 

Tim is pulling Armie’s hands up, up, up. “Make sure you’re comfortable,” he tells him. Armie adjusts himself so his weight falls more to his shins than his knees, and starts testing out getting to a standing position from here. 

“Wait _—shit_ —I didn’t think about how you could stand.”

Armie shoots a look at him. “What?”

“You’re not supposed to be able to move.”

“... Tim, I don’t know—”

“What’s the point of the ropes if you’re not restrained?” 

Armie stares at him. He knows he has a fucking point—that’s what he does with people _not himself_ —but… fucking Tim—only with him has he ever been restrained, and now it was going to be fully, for the first time. 

Tim… doesn’t exactly soften, but he asks quietly, “Is this something we can do?”

He doesn’t know why, but it’s the fucking little “we” that does it. “We.” Them. They’re together. This is something they’re sharing, together. 

Armie looks down, gives a single nod. “Yeah.” Behind him, he crosses an ankle over the other. “Get me secure back there, and I shouldn’t be able to get up.”

Tim nods and grabs an extra length of rope; in passing, he bends down and gives Armie a warm and slick, slick kiss. Armie automatically leans into it with a small moan, but it’s gone as quick as it came. 

He can feel Tim improvising something back there; he knows it’s an unusual angle he has to bind together. Whatever it is, it feels pretty solid. He hears Tim walk behind him and his wrists are going up and up again—and up, and up—

And then suddenly his arms have gone up so far that he has to gasp—he’s stretched out long, long. His breathing shallows; his balance is abruptly tenuous. His heart is starting to race. 

“Okay?” Tim asks him. 

“Yeah—” and his voice is pitched a little higher than normal, and breathy. 

“... you sure?”

He nods rapidly. “ _Yeah—yeah—”_

Tim comes over to look down at him, frowning a little. Armie just looks up at him, gasping, waiting. 

Tim just stares at him, brow knit, and Armie can only stare back, trying to breathe, wondering why this was starting to make him hard, just being strung up like this. 

He swallows. “ _Tim_ —” Wants to say more but can’t, can’t quite string the words together. His tongue is working behind his teeth; God, this would be a good fucking time for Tim to shove his cock in his mouth. He flicks his eyes towards Tim’s crotch—is he hard? Has to look back up at Tim’s serious face—what would it take to get him hard at this point? 

_What could I do—so he’ll—_ God, _so he’ll—_

Tim, who has been watching him this whole time, slowly comes to kneel in front of him. 

“ _Tim, what—”_

Tim’s mouth is on his with a fury. Armie just moans into it, high and long. Tim breaks off and his hands are scrabbling over Armie’s belt and fly and—

Armie’s eyes fall shut and he’s groaning, leaning what he can into Tim’s grip on his cock. Tim starts jacking him, and it’s steady enough for things to get real serious _real_ quick. 

“ _Tim—what—I thought—”_

Tim presses his face rough into his—Armie can feel his uneven, open-mouthed breaths on his skin, and it turns into a full drag of his teeth alongside his face. A hand comes up to cup his cheek and Tim is telling him in whispers between rough kisses on his mouth, “ _This is mine—fuck—this is all mine, God, you’re so hot, I want you to come, I want you to come so hard—”_

“ _Ah, fu—!_ ”

The rest of the word comes out in a sharp, pitched moan, because Tim has licked and spat into his hand and is stripping his cock hard and fast. 

He can feel Tim whispering against his lips, “ _C’mon—c’mon—I want your come on me, I want that cock to come all over me—”_

It hits him like a trainwreck and Armie jerks in his bonds to shoot all over the front of Tim’s t-shirt. Tim whispers “ _yeah… fuck yeah...”_ through it and he didn’t realize Tim talking dirty to him was enough to do it, but God, that voice was going to fucking haunt him now. 

Tim is fumbling at his own pants, presumably to pull his dick out, and Armie pants at him, “You said I could do that.”

Tim’s face is _wild_ when he looks up at him, and Armie vaguely wonders for a second if he even understood what he said. Tim suddenly stands and walks behind him, and a second later Armie falls to the ground because the rope has gone completely slack, probably cut. He feels Tim working at the restraint at his ankles so he works at the knot at his wrists, with his teeth again. Thank God for his dentist. 

When he has all his limbs back, he turns and looks at Tim, who’s already made his way to the bed, stripping off his clothes along the way. 

Armie just takes several strides over and barely gets a knee on the bed to suck in Tim’s cock. Tim’s cry is loud and high, and his hands fist _hard_ into his hair, and Armie just—he practically puts his back into it, sucking Tim off. Tim’s moaning is _desperate_ , and Armie just wants to hear it again and again. 

Tim doesn’t even tell him—he just slaps at Armie’s shoulders and Armie figures—he pulls back enough so his come doesn’t choke him, and then he swallows, and swallows, and swallows, _fuck_. Tim makes a noise above him—deep, loud, and through the teeth. Armie curls his tongue around the head of Tim’s cock again and again—God, he loves the feel of it in his mouth—until he hears Tim make a strangled noise and feels him bat at him again to get off. Armie just drops his head on Tim’s thigh, trying to catch his breath. 

After things have seemed to calm some: “So no pictures?”

He hears the sheets rustle, looks up to see Tim shaking his head. “Can’t….”

In puzzled amusement: “‘Can’t’ what?”

“I can’t keep pictures of you like that… I’d lose my fucking mind.” He feels Tim start to card a hand through his hair. “I want… I want to keep…” He shakes his head again. “That’s special.” 

Tim’s fingers are gently stroking through his hair, and Armie feels like he could almost go to sleep like this. But he wants them to get cleaned up and under the covers. 

Once they’re snuggly ensconced in bed, he spoons Tim tight to him. He just wants to feel him all over; his teeth itch a little bit with the want to devour him. Tim’s hands come up, smooths up and down his arms. 

“You good?” Tim softly asks him. “Your head good?” He kisses him on the wrist. 

“I should ask you. You looked out of your mind there for a second.”

“Man….” Tim exhales a long, happy breath, shaking his head. “That was… I told you there’d be no way that I could just… have that lying around. It’d drive me insane.” He nuzzles against his arm. “But you’re okay?” There’s a serious, concerned tone to the question. 

He takes a hand and smooths Tim’s wild hair back, sticks his face in it for a moment so he can breathe him in deep. He wants to, but just can’t, blithely tell Tim _yeah, sure_. 

“I didn’t realize what it takes to be on the other end of this.” It comes out suddenly, and he can feel Tim moving in his arms, presumably to look at him. He holds onto Tim fast, pressing all of him close and tight. He’s not ready to have Tim look at him yet. 

“What do you mean?” Tim asks, trying to turn his head as much as he can anyway. 

He doesn’t know. 

When Armie stays silent, Tim turns back, settles. They lie there for a moment; Armie’s eyes are closed and he’s just enjoying the feel of the rise and fall of Tim’s breaths against him. 

“Is it okay that we do this?” 

Armie opens his eyes, a surprised and questioning noise coming out of him. 

“You know—stuff like this? Is it okay?”

“Why do you like doing it so much?” The response is quicker than he expected, more pointed. Because that _has_ been niggling in the back of his mind.

Tim draws in a breath, stops. Plays with the hair on Armie’s forearms. 

“You want it so bad.”

Now it’s Armie’s turn to try and look at him. 

“I’ve only seen you get like that when you’ve been tied up… like it’ll fucking kill you if you don’t—” Tim doesn’t finish and Armie can feel him squirm a bit, draw a little back into himself.

Armie can finish his thought, though: _If I don’t have you._

That’s why he does it, why he likes to dominate and tease and be in control—the people he’s been with, they wind up wanting him, wanting the person holding the reins so badly. It’s total and complete. No questions. No doubt. 

_You. Just you._

And of course Tim likes the taste of that, like he does. Of course. 

“It’ll always kill me if I don’t have you, Tim. Always has.” 

He doesn’t restrain Tim this time when he turns himself around, and Tim’s mouth is hard and demanding against his. Tim comes to straddle him, and they kiss long and deep, Tim’s weight a solid presence all on him. 

“You— _God—”_ Tim mutters against his mouth, through the kisses. 

“ _I love you,_ ” Armie whispers low to him, suddenly fervent. He seizes Tim’s face so he can kiss him all over—his eyes, his cheek, his lips, his neck. “ _You have no idea how much I fucking love you_.”

Tim makes a small noise in the back of his throat, almost a whimper. “ _Armie—”_

“ _Do you know what you do to me? I always fucking want you, Tim. Always. Always._ ”

Tim moans, broken and given over, and Armie drags his mouth down to his so he can take the hungry, devouring kiss that Tim always gives. Armie blindly finds Tim’s cock and grips it firm and solid, making Tim give a shocked moan into his mouth, then starts pumping his cock hard and fast in his fist. 

“ _C’mon, it’s your turn—God, I love the taste of your come in my mouth, you know that? Everyone in the fucking world wants to fuck you but I’m the only one who gets to make you come like this, huh? Get your cock so fucking hard because it’s fucking mine, you’re mine, Tim, you’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine—”_

Tim cries out and Armie just holds onto Tim’s face, watches him as he gets closer and closer to coming.

“ _Tim—look at me._ ”

Tim’s eyes fly open, and Armie gets to see the whole thing—watch Tim’s face become agonized as he comes, hard, his mouth fallen open and crying out with each spurt on his chest. Armie works him through it, slick and thorough, until it’s all out of him. 

Armie gets his hands back, props himself up so he can nuzzle into Tim’s panting face. Tim rests his forehead on his, and they stay like that a moment, breathing against each other. 

Tim eventually rolls and drops to the side, slinging an arm over his face. Armie kisses his elbow, gets up to find another clean thing to wipe both of them down with. 

To his dismay, Tim has already rolled over onto his stomach when he gets back. Not like the sheets weren’t already filthy... but still. Armie kisses a spot anyway between his shoulder blades, then his face, before dropping down and getting settled himself in bed. 

Tim blindly reaches an arm out to touch him, and he mumbles, “I love you, too.”

Armie blinks at him. 

There’s that ache in his heart again. 

He knows. He knows this. He knows Tim loves him. He wouldn’t have been able to do any of this shit if he didn’t know this. 

Tim fucking maddens him sometimes, like a feeling of his that he can’t control. That itch to devour him is behind his teeth again, and a lot of times he doesn’t know what to do with it, but roll it around in his mouth, grind on it, swallow it down, take it within him. 

Keep it in him, so he can lean over, kiss him gently on the face again, and think, _I’ll always love you_. Turn out the light, pull the covers around them, pull him tight to him, and settle in a sleep that promises them another day, together.

_Fin_


End file.
